Only a small fraction of Americans know what it’s truly like to fight a war and live with its aftermath. Les Carroll’s novel "This Troubled Ground" bridges that gap by taking readers from the somber, cold tarmac of Dover Air Force Base to the battle-scarred landscapes of Afghanistan.

Inspired by true events from Carroll’s own military service, the story follows an Air Force officer’s haunting journey to find meaning after combat, intertwined with a Gold Star mother’s desperate quest for meaning and purpose after losing her son in war.

At the heart of "This Troubled Ground" is a vivid portrayal of the realities of war on two fronts: the home front, where fallen soldiers return, and the war zone, where new dangers await each day.

Carroll introduces us to Air Force Lt. Col. Brist Watson, who stands on the windy Dover AFB tarmac overseeing “dignified transfer” ceremonies for servicemembers killed in action. These opening scenes are rendered with respectful detail and emotional weight as we witness families gathering to receive their loved ones for the last time.

Through Watson’s eyes, the solemn rituals at Dover carry an almost sacred gravity, setting the tone for the novel’s exploration of sacrifice and sorrow. It isn’t long before Watson’s past and present begin to blur— each flag-draped coffin reminding him of the two tours he served in Afghanistan and stirring questions about whether the sacrifices were worth it.

The narrative then transports us to Afghanistan, where Watson is deployed amid the ongoing conflict. Carroll spares no truth in depicting life in a combat zone: the constant state of alert, the boom of distant explosions, and even the mundane details of life continuing against a backdrop of war.

In Kabul’s crowded streets, “life goes on in the midst of war,” with traffic jams and daily routines persisting under the shadow of danger. This contrast between normalcy and peril is eye-opening, illuminating how the Afghan people carry on even as insurgent threats loom. From briefing rooms to helicopter flights over hostile terrain, Watson’s duties immerse the reader in the day-to-day grind and dread of a deployed officer.

Carroll’s descriptions are immersive and unflinching— we feel the bite of desert dust, the jolt of every alarm, and the chill of each midnight phone call. By taking us to both the quiet, heartbreaking ceremonies at Dover and the harrowing missions in Afghanistan, the novel paints a comprehensive picture of war’s many forms and its far-reaching impact.

While Watson struggles to reconcile his experiences, we also meet Laura McGower— a mother forever changed by the knock on her door informing her of her son Ryan’s death in Afghanistan. Laura’s grief is profound, but so is her resolve. A former journalist, she refuses to remain just a grieving Gold Star mother in the background. Instead, Laura embarks on her own journey to make sense of her son’s sacrifice.

Her path literally and figuratively converges with Watson’s: first at Dover, where he briefly witnesses Laura and her daughter in a moment of unimaginable sorrow, and later in the dusty heart of Afghanistan. By a twist of fate and sheer determination, Laura arrives in-theater as an embedded reporter, intent on seeing the world her son experienced. This development brings the two characters face to face under extraordinary circumstances.

Watson is stunned to recognize her— the memory of that tragic day at Dover still fresh— and suddenly his mission becomes intensely personal. Together, the officer and the mother venture into what can only be described as a crucible of truth, visiting military outposts and even the very soil where Ryan lost his life.

The emotional journey that unfolds is as pivotal as the physical one. Through conversations and shared trials, Watson and Laura grapple with questions that have no easy answers. What was the purpose of all this loss? Did any of it make a difference? The novel raises these gut-wrenching questions openly, reflecting the real doubts of many who served in Afghanistan.

Watson, who has dedicated decades to the Air Force, finds himself searching his soul for justification and meaning. Laura, in turn, seeks a sense of closure or understanding— some spark of hope to carry her through the devastation of losing her child. Their interactions are drawn with empathy and realism; there are moments of tension, misunderstanding and profound respect.

As a colonel, Watson feels duty-bound to protect Laura during her visit, but he also comes to value her perspective and courage. Laura’s presence forces him to confront the human cost of war beyond the base and battlefield— to see the war through a mother’s eyes. In Laura, we witness a transformation from despair to quiet strength; despite encountering the worst of war’s horrors up close, she refuses to let her son’s death be meaningless.

By the end, both characters have been indelibly changed by their shared experience. Though the story does not hand them simple resolutions— indeed, it remains “ultimately tragic” in acknowledging what cannot be undone— it shows how even in tragedy, people can find slivers of hope and humanity.

Les Carroll writes "This Troubled Ground" with a clear-eyed honesty and authority that could only come from someone who has walked in his protagonist’s boots. A retired Air Force lieutenant colonel himself, Carroll served two tours in Afghanistan and spent months at Dover’s Mortuary Affairs Operations Center, experiences that unmistakably inform every chapter of the novel. The result is a story steeped in authenticity— from military acronyms and protocols to the very ethos of service members.

Carroll’s style is straightforward and crisp, reflecting his background as an award-winning journalist, yet it’s also deeply emotional. He has a documentarian’s eye for detail, capturing scenes in vivid, you-are-there realism, and a storyteller’s heart that beats in the novel’s intimate moments of reflection and vulnerability.

The first-person narrative draws readers into Watson’s internal struggles without feeling heavy-handed. In one moment, Watson might clinically describe the procedure of a fallen soldier’s return; in the next, he’s quietly laying bare his doubts and sorrows in a way that feels raw and genuine. This balance between reportorial clarity and emotional depth gives the book a unique power. There are passages that will make readers pause and catch their breath— not because of overwrought drama, but because of how real and unvarnished the feelings are.

The novel’s tone is decidedly compassionate and thoughtful. Even as it covers scenes of combat or tense military operations, "This Troubled Ground" is not an action-thriller aimed at adrenaline rushes. Rather, it’s a meditation on service and sacrifice. The pacing allows room for introspection, character growth and respectful tribute to those who have fallen.

Carroll does not shy away from the ugliness of war— the sudden violence of an IED blast, the weight of a flag handed to a weeping parent— but he also highlights the moments of grace: soldiers supporting one another, a small gesture of kindness in the field, the resilience of the human spirit under duress. The emotional weight of these scenes is significant, and readers will likely find themselves moved, even shaken, by the honesty in the storytelling.

Yet for all its gravity, the novel isn’t without hope. Carroll finds uplift in the simple acts of doing one’s duty with integrity and caring for others in the darkest times. The interplay of haunting sorrow and quiet hope is one of the book’s most compelling aspects. It leaves the reader not with despair, but with a deeper appreciation for what countless military families and veterans have endured.

In sum, "This Troubled Ground" is a poignant and enlightening war novel that succeeds on multiple levels: as a gripping account of an officer’s physical and emotional trials, as a sensitive study of a mother’s grief and perseverance, and as a genuine reflection on the legacy of the Afghanistan War.

Carroll’s personal insight and heartfelt narrative voice elevate the story, lending it a realism and compassion that linger long after the final page. Without resorting to hyperbole or political grandstanding, the novel asks us to consider the true cost of war— not in dollars or strategy, but in human lives, dreams and memories.

Warm, factual and engaging, "This Troubled Ground" will resonate with readers who enjoy books about military life and aftermath (such as "The Things They Carried" or modern military memoirs) and anyone interested in a deeply human story of search and solace. It stands as both a tribute to those who served and sacrificed, and a gentle call for understanding the burden they carry.

In a world where many of us only see war through distant headlines, Carroll’s novel brings the experience home in a way that is unforgettable, profoundly moving and ultimately illuminating.